Cobblestones
by epiphanies
Summary: Short ficlet. Hermione and Crabbe get locked in a dungeon for a half hour and talk.


Cobblestones

by: epiphanies

A weird, out of nowhere ficlet. Not my best, but I like it. Deserved to be posted. :)

  
  
  
  


Hermione slipped her wand out of the pocket of her robes and stuck it promptly in front of her nose. 

"Lumos," she whispered, and a midget light illuminated the drafty corridor. She was in the dungeons.

Why, oh why did she get into that fight with Ron? Just over a stupid kiss on duty? Why had she run away from him on patrol? Why did she think she'd be able to handle Hogwarts on her own?

"Stupid git," she hugged her arms to herself as she plodded down the corridor, "Leaving me to investigate the sounds down here..." She refused to listen to the part of her that was saying, in the 'let's irritate Hermione!' voice, "But you were the one that left HIM..."

She heard a grunt and a low whisper and froze. Silence again.

She quirked an eyebrow, hoping that she wouldn't be walking in on anything, er, bad, sooner or later. She and Ron had already walked in on Filch and Mrs Norris nuzzling each other, and Ron had sworn that Filch was purring before he set out a fresh set of swear words at them. Hermione secretly agreed.

She swallowed as she reached an arched doorway. She glanced inside. Looked empty.

Just to be sure, she stepped in and looked around.

SLAM!

Hermione whirled around to see that the doorway she'd just stepped through had been closed. Very loudly, at that.

Praying that it had just been a mistake, she tried the handle.

Locked. 

She whispered, "Alohomora!"

Nothing.

Great.

She repeated the illuminating charm, and glanced about the room that she was in.

It was completely empty. Except for somebody standing in the far corner.

Hermione felt a stab of fear. She couldn't see the face, but she could tell it was a man, and a very large one at that.

"I'll scream," she warned shakily, her wand in her hand.

"Don't," said a dull voice.

She knew that voice.

The man - actually, the boy- stepped out of the shadows of the corner. It was Gregory Goyle. And he was alone.

She eyed him suspiciously, "What's going on?"

He avoided looking at her, "I don't know."

She rolled her eyes, "Well of course you do. What are you doing down here?"

"I was, uh," he stammared, shifting his enormous feet on the cobblestone floor, "Looking for Draco. Er, Malfoy, I mean."

Hermione stared at him. Was he out of his mind?

No, he's just stupid, she reminded herself nastily, he probably doesn't even know that this is a dungeon.

"Listen, do you know why that door closed?"

The great oaf shook his head desperately, and Hermione threw up her hands.

"Great. Looks like we're stuck here until we're found, unless you can force open the door."

She slid down the wall and leaned against it, sitting on the cold floor. Sulking.

Why couldn't she have at least be stuck down here with somebody who could make good conversation? Malfoy would have been more interesting than THIS!

"Uh," said Goyle, still standing uncomfortably, "I could try."

"It's no use," she said irritably, "Magic won't open it, there must be a key, or a charm, or a password, or something."

"Oh."

She couldn't help it. She rolled her eyes again.

She found herself admiring the pattern of the stones in the floor. Crimson and azure, accenting the other, sparkling like jewels. She had never seen a floor like this. And, as her eyes floated along the walls of the square room, she realized that she hadn't ever seen a room quite like this. She hadn't seen this room, EVER, not in her six years at Hogwarts nor her two years as a Prefect. It was as simple and empty as it was tall and misty. Hermione couldn't even tell where it's height ended. The walls were covered in the same jewels that decorated the floor, and Hermione felt guilty for sitting on it. Still, she didn't stand.

Goyle still stood, rooted to his spot in the corner. Hermione felt another unprecendented stab of annoyance.

"You can sit, you know. It's nervewracking," she said impatiently, and then raised her eyebrow at him, "It's...you're making me nervous, that is. Sit."

He sat.

She glared at him, "Do you do -everything- you're told?"

He stared at her hopelessly and didn't answer.

She rolled her eyes again and reminded herself why Professor Dumbledore had HAD to pick Malfoy and Parkinson for Prefects - they were the best of their bloody bunch!

"Granger?"

Hermione turned to Goyle, her face condescending, "What?"

He went bright red and muttered, "Nothing."

Hermione took a double take. Goyle? Embarrassed? Blushing? And she, Hermione Granger, was feeling bad that she'd made it happen. Oi. 

"No, really, what do you want?" she sighed, and for the first time, their eyes met.

His eyes are blue, Hermione realized with a jolt. Not that it had ever really mattered, of course, but it was kind of weird to know...kind of weird to think that you could know somebody for six years and not even know the colour of their eyes. Then again, she didn't know Crabbe's eye colour either.

"Uh, why were you down here?" he said, in that dull monotone of his.

"Prefect patrolling," she replied, leaning her head back on the colourful cobblestone wall.

"But I thought that was supposed to be in pairs." Goyle said, with a puzzled look on his face.

Hermione was taken aback. How very odd. Of course, Goyle must have known about the paired patrolling, he was friends with his two House Prefects. But all the same, Goyle knowing facts? Asking questions? Too strange.

"Er, yes, well, it's supposed to be in pairs, and it was originally a pair," she said, "But Ron and I got separated, and-"

"You and Ron separated?" said Goyle, and Hermione would have thought, if she hadn't have known better, that he'd actually sounded excited.

"Well, we got separated on patrol. We're not separated, though." Are we?

"Oh." Goyle responded, back with the monotone.

"Yeah," she said lamely, then went back to studying the cobblestones.

Goyle spoke again after five minutes of thick silence, "I always knew that you two would get together."

Hermione raised her eyes to his, "Really? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't talk to you, did I?"

Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers. Goyle was actually being kind of rude! GOYLE. Gregory Goyle. Talking to her, in a dungeon, about her relationship, being bitter and rude! What in the WORLD was going on?

"Well," she started, "I suppose we didn't talk..."

"This is the first time we've talked."

"Right. Well, anyway, why did you think we'd get together?"

"I didn't think," Goyle said simply, "I knew."

"But how?" Hermione asked, tapping her nails impatiently on the cobblestones, "You're not some fraud old psychic-slash-psycho like old Trelawny, are you?"

"No!" said Goyle hotly, "But you guys liked the other since first year!"

Hermione didn't say anything. It was true. At least, on her part, it was true.

"How did you know, though? You didn't even talk to us." she said softly, and he grunted.

"My Ma- Malfoy knew you guys inside and out. Whether you wanted him to or not. He knew how to get under your skin, he knew how to bother you, he knew how to lure you-"

"Yeah, yeah," Hermione rolled her eyes, "So Malfoy told you? Is that how you 'knew'?"

"No. I knew because..well, have you ever seen me talk?"

"No," she admitted, "This is the first, er, incident."

"That's because I don't speak often," he said simply, "I observe."

"And all this time, I thought you...er, well, I didn't think that you were observing me."

"Not just you. Everyone. Students, teachers, friends, enemies...everybody was being observed. And they never knew it, because they just figured I was spacing out if I was ever glancing their way, or any way away from Dra- Malfoy."

Hermione's cheeks were burning.

"Er, well...you DO hang about Malfoy a lot, don't you?"

"Of course," Goyle furrowed his eyebrows at her, "You DO hang around Potter a lot, don't you?"

"Of course!" she retorted vehemently, then her eyes widened, "You're not implying that I'm a servant to Harry!"

"No, I'm not. I'm implying that I may be kind of subserviant to Malfoy, but I'm also his friend."

"Really? I didn't know he had friends."

"Yeah, well, he does."

Hermione toyed with a strand of her hair, "Goyle, are you sure that he's your friend? I mean, does he ever call you a friend? Or do nice things for you? Or-"

"Not every friend is like yours, Her- Granger."

"Yeah, sometimes they're servants."

Goyle scowled at her, and she was surprised that he wasn't even cracking his knuckles.

"Hermione Granger," he pronounced slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, "Draco Malfoy is a jerk."

"Yeah, he sure is-"

"But," Goyle said sharply, and Hermione stopped, "He's the best friend I could ever ask for."

Hermione's heart went out to the boy. Thinking that Draco Malfoy could ever-

"He even did something for me tonight."

"Really?" Hermione's ears perked, "What was that?"

Goyle blushed again, and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, "Nothing illegal, right? Or immoral?"

"No, no, nothing," blustered the oversized boy, "Nothing, never mind..."

"No, really," Hermione insisted, "tell me. Please? I'm interested, Goyle, I really am."

He was brick red as he shook his head, and she pleaded again until he finally said, "All right! All right, I'll tell you. He and I were talking in the dungeons about...er, something, and then we heard you come down, and we stopped talking...and then we saw you, and he pushed me into this room, and that made you hear me, so you came into this room-"

"And he slammed the door shut on us." Hermione finished. But she didn't understand. Why would Malfoy do that?

"Why? And how does that make him this stupendous friend?"

Goyle went even redder, and like a crack of lightning, Hermione understood. She felt a blush creeping up her own cheeks just as fresh light spewed into the cobblestoned room, making the jewels sparkle. From the arched doorway stood Ron, looking worried.

"Hermione!" he sighed in relief, then saw Goyle and scowled. Hermione smiled at Ron and waved her hand as she stood and dusted herself off, as to say, "Don't worry about it, he's fine."

"How did you get the door open?" she asked curiously, and Ron furrowed his brow, "I heard voices. It just opened."

Hermione stole a glance at Goyle, who was staring at her with stars in his eyes, though still recovering from the blushing fit. She sent him a small smile before heading out the door to the arms of her boyfriend, and found it within her to hope that one day, Death Eater in Training or not, he would find somebody that would see him with the same stars that he saw her with.


End file.
